~ A challenge piece for the FGC, I think at just under 30 minutes, it's the quickest fanfiction I've ever written. With that in mind there are probably a few mistakes that I've been unable to catch. It will be beta'd ASAP though :D Challenge elements are listed at the bottom~
You remember just why you've avoided looking in the mirror when you catch a glimpse of your reflection. You reach up and trace your fingers around the outline of the face you barely recognise anymore. Flecks of grey streak your once vibrant blonde hair, and it's grown long past your shoulders since you stopped bothering to cut it. Your eyes are ringed by dark shadows and your complexion is sickly, sallow from years without natural light.
Sighing, you move away and drift over to the desk in the corner of the room, retrieving the journal from the drawer before you sit down. It's funny the things that become routine over the years. It's 22.20 Zulu, you notice, not that it really matters though.
You're not sure how long ago you stopped using the ship's log on the computer and started writing things out in pen and ink, but it's been at least six years. You can't quite put your finger on it, but somehow you're oddly comforted by the scratch of a pen on paper. Maybe it's a technology issue, after all technology is what got you into this mess. But you don't dwell on that too much these days, there's not even that much to write about anymore. You've all but given up on finding a solution, marked it off as the one problem that you'll never be able to solve.
So the days play out mostly the same, the lights click on at 8.30 zulu and you're not sure if any of you remember what a real sunrise looks like. Vala makes breakfast and fusses around and tries to make the reconstituted food taste good. Teal'c and Cam spar for a good part of the day, pent up anger and frustration show themselves as cuts and bruises and the scars are there for everyone to see. General Landry spends more and more time in his 'garden' talking and tending to his plants; the only things that are able to provide real vitamins. Daniel spends all day studying the information on the Asgard computer and you really don't understand how he still has the spirit to learn, not when he knows, when you all know that you're going to die on this ship.
And you, well you get up and make your way down to the control room and busy yourself with programming and recalibration and you try to find ways to make life a little more bearable. Often you play your cello; sometimes you run and run around the corridors until your joints ache but you don't have the heart to sit and stare at the time dilation programme on the computer anymore. It's too much, too great for you to comprehend- 15 years of failure have proven that.
Cruelly, whilst time has robbed your memory of certain things, you can remember clear as day everything that has happened on the ship. You can remember the vigour with which you first attacked the problem, certain that you would crack it within weeks, then the weeks became months. Long painful months that turned into years. And you can remember every second as if it were yesterday, you can remember the growing doubt, then the awful realisation that there was nothing you could do. You remember the days when you'd go up to the bridge and just sit there and stare at the Ori beam. It's movement so slight that it seemed to stand still, and now more than ever you wonder if it would have been better to let the beam hit the ship, let it wreak the havoc it was intended to do.
Knowing that it was the actions of you alone that trapped everyone here, and it was you who sentenced them to a life barely worth living is something that's never left your mind. It shadows every waking moment and it haunts your dreams at night. They've never laid the blame on you personally, at least not out loud. That doesn't mean they've accepted the situation any more than you have. You've seen the state Cam leaves his room in when he's decided to smash it up, Teal'c pretends to be okay but there's something missing in his eyes. General Landry's mind isn't what it once was, Daniel has days when he doesn't speak to anyone at all and you've lost count of the times Vala has curled up on your bed, sobbing that she can't stand the thought of dying here. The guilt just racks up, more and more every day.
The horrible thing is, that guilt that you carry, it isn't the worst thing that you feel. The pain of knowing that Jack is back on earth, while you're here, is the worst thing. Knowing that he doesn't even know you're missing yet, and that by the time he does you'll have already been gone for years is unbearable. Knowing that barely seconds have passed for him while you've spent a half a lifetime without him breaks your heart.
You miss him, his scent, his voice. You miss the callouses on his hands that give you shivers when he runs his hands up your spine, you miss the stubble he grows when he doesn't have to go to Washington for a few days. You miss days spent at his cabin, catching no fish but catching each others hearts again and again, days tangled in a sea of satin bedsheets. Days hiking in the mountains and nights up on his roof; when he burns everything on the barbecue but it doesn't matter because you're too busy watching the stars, wishing on the shooting ones and not caring that you know they're really just meteors. Grudgingly, you even admit to missing his awful taste in music, and you find yourself craving the likes of Rick Astley and Cher, just to feel close to him.
A single tear slips down your cheek and you don't bother to wipe it away, you've let your emotions run wild for a long time now. It's not fair, you don't belong here, you shouldn't be here. You should be back on earth, back there with Jack, enjoying the relationship you put off for too long. Most days you find yourself wishing that you had made the move sooner, that you hadn't let your career get in the way of what you knew you both wanted. That you'd had more time. Time. You have lots of time now, time to dwell on all the things you should have done.
You shake your head, and curse yourself silently for getting so lost in your thoughts. You shake the pen after you've uncapped it and you frown at the dots of ink that now blemish the page. One ink blot in the corner of the page is drying in the shape of a heart and you crossly scratch through it with the pen before you start to write. You start the page just as you always do.
Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, second in command of the United States Vessel Odyssey.
Time: 22.41 Zulu.
It has been 19 years and 235 days since the time dilation device in the Asgard core was activated. Minor adjustments have been made to the beaming device. Power levels in the ZPM remain steady at 75%. Waste systems are clear, and the problem concerning the purification of water has been resolved. Food production remains adequate enough to provide for at least the next two years.
The attitude of the crew is much the same, although I am watching General Landry with increased concern. It is apparent now that he is showing signs of dementia, and I fear it will not be long before I am forced to assume command of this vessel. Any change in the chain of command will of course be duly noted via the appropriate channels.
'Appropriate channels'. You scrutinize what you have just written; there were only five of you on board the whole ship, changes in the chain of command didn't really matter. No one was really in charge anymore, you were all just surviving. Writing it down though, as if one day it might matter, gives you the tiny sliver of hope that you need to actually make it through the day.
You feel a stab of pain in your heart because you know deep down that your hope is futile. You cling to it though because without it, you fear you wouldn't be here today. You fight a sudden urge to scribble through the words you've just written, and instead you sign it off and turn the page.
You notice that the heart shaped ink blot you'd previously crossed out has sunk through the thin paper and lies perfectly in the corner of the new page. A wave of emotion washes over you at the sight of the simple symbol and you run your fingertip lightly over it. Swallowing the newly formed lump in your throat you begin to write, and it's the only piece in the whole journal which doesn't start off with your own name.
Dear Jack...
FIN
~ challenge elements~
1. Must include the phrase: “Heroes. Giants. Villians. Wizards. True Love. Not just your typical, average, everyday, ordinary, run-of-the-mill, ho-hum, fairy tale.” Or the phrase: "You don't belong here." *CHECK
2. Must be any one of the following: Angst, Romance, Humor, Songfic, or Horror. *CHECK
3. Must involve the presence of one of the following: Michael Symon, Cher, John Ritter, or LLK. *CHECK
4. Must be a minimum rating of K and a max rating of M. *CHECK
5. No more 1,500 or less than 750 *CHECK (well sort of. I'm a few words over)